“Consult the housekeeper,” Darcy said, attempting to deflect Mr. Tilney’s ire away from Elizabeth and upon himself. “She installed us there.”
“Northanger has no housekeeper at present. The previous one retired six weeks ago and has not yet been replaced.”
Darcy exchanged glances with Elizabeth. While Dorothy had not possessed the competence of a senior servant, she had certainly seemed to possess the authority of one. They must have erred in their assumption of her status.
“We mean the servant Dorothy,” Elizabeth clarified. “We took her for the housekeeper.”
“I do not believe Northanger Abbey has ever employed a housekeeper named Dorothy,” Henry said. “But there are many things about your story I find difficult to believe. Very well, let us summon this ‘Dorothy.’”
Mr. Tilney rang for the butler, who denied the existence of any Dorothy among the household staff.
Elizabeth frowned, her countenance reflecting Darcy’s own increasing frustration. “She is perhaps five- or six-and-thirty,” she said.
The butler shook his head.
“A tall, blond woman with a handsome countenance?” Elizabeth pressed. “Not particularly attentive?”
“I am sorry, madam. I cannot think of a servant at Northanger who could be so described.”
Mr. Tilney crossed his arms and cast Darcy a look of impatience. “Perhaps you would like me to summon all the female servants for your inspection?”
“Most of the maids are still away, Mr. Tilney,” said the butler. “As I was explaining before your visitors arrived, the captain’s military duties kept him from Northanger for such long spans of time that we have been operating with a reduced staff, and he recently granted the remaining household servants an unexpected holiday.”
Darcy could not help but interrupt. “The entire staff — at once?”
“Indeed, one seldom hears of such liberality on the part of any employer. But Captain Tilney sent me at the same time to Lincolnshire to interview a new housekeeper, so I was able to make the journey without leaving a house full of servants unsupervised.”
“When did you return from Lincolnshire?” Darcy asked.
“Wednesday night.”
Darcy’s thoughts tumbled one upon another as he watched the butler depart. If Dorothy — or whatever her name might be — were not Captain Tilney’s servant, who was the woman who had led them around Northanger and settled them in Mrs. Tilney’s apartment?
“Mr. Darcy, it seems that this Dorothy person does not exist,” said Mr. Melbourne. “You have been caught in one lie. Do you care to recant any of the others before they are disproved as well?”
Indignation nearly robbed Darcy of speech. He could not bear to have his integrity so challenged. “I have told no falsehoods.”
“I would venture to say that you have spoken little else since arriving here,” declared Mr. Tilney. “To begin with, my brother could not possibly have received you here on Tuesday.”
He turned abruptly and crossed to a far door. He flung it open and strode rapidly through an antechamber to a set of pocket doors. These he slid wide. “Is this where you claim to have met with him just two days ago?”
They followed him into the grand drawing room. It was indeed the chamber where they had first met Captain Tilney — but much altered. Sheets, not candles, covered the table surfaces. They had been draped over all the furniture to protect it from dust and sunlight. The fireplace was swept so clean that it appeared disused for months. A small firescreen stood beside the hearth; the large one that had shielded the captain was nowhere in sight.
“This room was fully fitted out for use,” Darcy said. “As much so as the dining room and breakfast parlor.”
“You must consider me a poor host compared to my brother. I should have invited you to take refreshment, but those rooms appear the same as this. We can visit them, too, if you like,” Mr. Tilney said. “The state of this house contradicts your claims of what occurred here. My brother obviously has not entertained guests, or even resided here himself, for some time.”
Elizabeth pointed to a covered piece of furniture that, from its shape, must certainly have been the purple velvet chair the captain had occupied. It now rested some distance from the fireplace. “He was sitting in that chair. We conversed with him. On Wednesday.”
“Not unless you spoke with a spectre, Mrs. Darcy. Frederick died far from here, accidentally killed in a training exercise with his regiment. According to his commander, he died the very day he suffered injury. Though the dispatch reached us only this morning, it was dated well before Wednesday.”
“If the gentleman we met was not Captain Tilney, then with whom were we here?” Darcy asked.
“A good question, Mr. Darcy — with whom were you here? In my brother’s house? Taking advantage of his absence to steal my mother’s diamonds?”
“We did not steal the diamonds. Indeed, we are as much victims of this fraud as you. Someone has conspired to make us appear guilty — lured us here under false pretenses, replaced my walking stick with a duplicate, deposited the diamonds within it. Do not you”—Darcy turned from Mr. Tilney—”or you, Mr. Melbourne, recognize that?”
“If there was a conspiracy, you were part of it,” said Mr. Melbourne. “It is terribly convenient, all of this happening while the servants are gone, nobody who can confirm your story — nobody who witnessed what you did. Except for whoever wrote the letter Mr. Chase received.”
“That the letter is anonymous supports my claim. Has it not occurred to you that the very person who planted the diamonds could have also written the letter? Is not Mr. Chase’s having received it ‘terribly convenient’? Please — all of you, consult your reason. I am a gentleman with an estate, a family, and a reputation to protect. Why would I risk them all for a set of jewels?”
“I do not know, Mr. Darcy,” said Henry Tilney. “But then, I do not know you.” Something on the floor caught Mr. Tilney’s gaze. He reached down and picked up a dry oak leaf. “Did Frederick? Were you even acquainted with my brother?”
Damning as it would sound, he could not speak other than the truth. “I was not.”
“Then on what pretext did you come here?”
“My late mother enjoyed the friendship of yours. Captain Tilney invited me here in their memory.”
He cast Darcy a dubious look. “That does not sound like Frederick.” Mr. Tilney suddenly looked very tired. “Mr. Melbourne, thank you for returning the diamonds. If you will excuse me, the day grows short, and I need to make arrangements for my brother’s memorial service.”
“Of course, Mr. Tilney. Forgive us for taking up so much of your time.” He motioned toward the door with the walking stick. Darcy had grown to detest the sight of it. “Come along, Mr. Darcy. It’s back to gaol for you.”
“You cannot be serious!”
“I am quite serious.”
“After everything we have just learned?”
“I have learned nothing to convince me of your innocence. Something peculiar occurred here — that is certain — but I am going to let the judge sort it out.”
A judge. Please God, let it be someone who holds his position on merit. Someone intelligent enough to recognize that Darcy and Elizabeth were targets, not the perpetrators, of this bizarre affair.
“How soon may this matter be presented to the court? Can we resolve it soon?” Darcy began to calculate how quickly Mr. Harper could be contacted. The solicitor would need to engage a barrister on their behalf to argue their case at the bar.
Mr. Melbourne barked out a laugh. “The assize judge has just come and gone through Gloucestershire. It will be spring before he returns for you to stand trial.”
“Consider the dreadful nature of the suspicions you have entertained. . Could they be perpetuated without being known, in a country like this, where social and literary intercourse is on such a footing; where every man is surrounded by a neighborhood of voluntary spies, and where roads and newspapers lay everything open?”
— Henry Tilney, Northanger Abbey
Elizabeth and Darcy managed to snatch a minute’s private speech as Mr. Melbourne took leave of Mr. Tilney.
“The moment you return to the inn, write to Mr. Harper,” Darcy said. “Advise him of this calamity and call him here straightaway.”